


spa day

by mae428



Series: inside together [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mae428/pseuds/mae428
Summary: Just a little follow up to my "artist at work" piece!! hope you enjoy :)
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: inside together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713904
Comments: 24
Kudos: 69





	spa day

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little follow up to my "artist at work" piece!! hope you enjoy :)

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Timmy says glumly as he stares out the window. It’s pouring outside. Thunder, lightning, the whole nine yards. He leans forward until his forehead thunks against the glass and he looks down at the street below. It’s pretty much empty, only a few cars here or there. They’ve been inside for over a month now, stuck to the confines of Timmy’s childhood apartment.

Luckily, his parents were visiting Pauline when pretty much the entire world went into lockdown. So, they hunkered down with some extended family in France, and Armie and Timmy signed on for another god-only-knows-how-long of apartment sitting. It took a while to get used to it (Armie can’t go two days without showering while Timmy is content to live in his own filth for up to four; the neighbors play a pump-up song at full volume every single day at 12 pm sharp; the woman down the hall seems to be training her new puppy _in the hallway_ ; Timmy desperately misses going to his favorite restaurants, even though Armie is a totally adequate cook).

“I know,” Armie sighs, coming up behind Timmy. He slips his hands around Tim’s waist, pinching lightly at his side. “At least my overindulgent baking is being put to use.”

Tim groans and tries to shake Armie off of him, but it’s no use. The guy has latched on like a koala. Timmy just sighs, watching his breath fog up the window as Armie drags his lips over the back of his neck. The new mustache/beard combo tickles, but Timmy likes it, especially between his thighs. “Ugh, you’re such a lug,” Timmy complains as Armie leans more of his weight against him.

“Come on, let’s do something. We can’t sit and stare at the rain all day.”

“Why not?” Timmy shoots back. “I _like_ staring at the rain all day.”

“You don’t.” Armie steps back and tugs at Timmy’s shirt until he finally turns around. He’s met with a warm smile and Armie ducks down to kiss him. “Now come on. Let’s do something.”

They ping-pong ideas off one another as Armie trails after Timmy through the apartment. They move from room to room together: in the kitchen, Timmy takes a swig straight from the bottle of orange juice; in the living room, Armie reorganizes a stack of New Yorkers; in Timmy’s room, they lay across his bed head to toe; in Paulines room, Timmy rifles through her vanity drawers, because no matter how many times he’s already looked through all her stuff, it never gets old.

“Oooh!” Timmy stops digging around and Armie lifts his head off a shaggy yellow pillow.

“What? Found a secret diary or something?”

“No, I’ve already read those.” He turns around to face Armie holding up two packets. “Can we do face masks? My skin is shit.”

“But my beard --”

“We can just do above your beard. Come on, it’ll be fun. A spa day.”

“A spa day,” Armie repeats. He rolls off the bed and rifles through Pauline’s vanity a bit more until he pulls out a bottle of pink nail polish. “Will you let me give you a pedicure?”

“Yeah, sure, but lemme put my mask on.”

They make a mess of the bathroom, smudges of their mud mask left behind on the countertop. Armie tries to clean it up, but Timmy just yanks him into the living room. He turns on some spa music and instructs Armie to dim the lights as he slices up some cucumber. Timmy pads back in and ruffles Armie’s hair, currently held back by one of Pauline’s headbands, before settling down on the couch, his feet in Armie’s lap and cucumber slices over his eyes.

“Well?” Timmy prompts, wiggling his toes. “Didn’t you say something about a pedicure?”

Armie laughs and Timmy is about to make his request again, but he hears Armie open the bottle of moisturizer. Soon enough, strong, lotioned fingers are digging into the arches of his feet. Timmy sighs happily and settles more comfortably on the couch. Armie’s hands are _magic_ , which Timmy has asserted on multiple occasions, and shivers run up his spine as Armie massages his feet.

Timmy drifts off a little, letting the music from the speaker and the sound of the rain hitting the windows lull him into a bubble of warmth. He’s halfway between wakefulness and sleep when Armie begins cracking his toes.

When Timmy jerks his foot, even though it felt good, Armie says by way of explanation: “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Timmy mumbles. He runs his tongue over his teeth, trying to clear the taste of sleep from his mouth.

“Yes, you do.”

“I _purr_ ,” Timmy corrects, indignant.

“Mmmhm,” _crack_ , “whatever you say.” Armie moves onto the next foot, slathering it in lotion before giving it the same attention. Timmy may or may not drift off again, clearing his throat when he catches himself starting to snore. Armie’s hands leave his feet and Timmy whines, digging his now moisturized heel into Armie’s thigh.

“Will you give me a second?” Armie asks with a flick to Timmy’s big toe. “I’m trying to open the base coat and I’ve got lotion all over my fingers.” 

Timmy wordlessly sticks his hand out, closing his fingers around the bottle when Armie passes it to him. He opens it with ease and passes it back with a murmured, “Weakling,” which earns him another flick to the toe. “Hey, these are my moneymakers,” Timmy teases. “Don’t fuck ‘em up.”

“Shut up, dipshit. Now keep still.” Armie steadies Timmy with a hand on his ankle, his strong fingers wrapped all the way around.

They’re quiet as Armie concentrates and Timmy’s mind wanders. He thinks about how lucky he is, they are, to be stuck in a nice apartment. To not have to worry about rent or job security. He smiles, remembering how Armie immediately insisted upon making multiple donations to various organizations and small businesses. He’s lucky to be quarantined with his boyfriend, someone who loves him so unconditionally that he’ll put up with wrinkled, greasy Timmy.

“Okay,” Armie finally says, some time later. “Done.”

Timmy removes the cucumbers from his eyes and takes a deep breath before blinking them open. He’s expecting a hack job: smears of pink on his skin, streaky polish, clumps in places. Instead, he’s met with perfectly manicured toes. “Holy shit.”  
  
“What were you expecting? I _do_ have a five-year-old daughter after all.”

“Thanks,” Timmy whispers, wiggling his toes, watching as the light catches on the glossy polish. He feels pampered, taken care of, and guilty all at the same time. “I’m sorry you’re not with them,” Timmy adds, voice even softer.

“Stop apologizing about that,” Armie says immediately. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m happy I’m with you. I didn’t want you to be alone. They’ve got Liz and my parents and a private beach. They’re fine.”

Tim sighs and closes his eyes, wishing he had the cucumber back on his lids. “Yeah, but they’re your kids, Armie. And we’re in the middle of a --”  
  
“Timmy. Stop it. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. Now, after we wash our faces, can I paint your fingernails too?”

Later that night, after homemade ramen and a Japanese highball each, Timmy inspects his skin in the mirror. “I think that mask actually worked,” he says, running his fingers over his cheek. “My breakouts look a little better.”

Armie kisses over the back of Tim’s neck, his fingers finding their way underneath his shirt. “Stop being vain and come to bed,” he pleads, starting to walk backward with Timmy firmly in his arms.

“Ugh.” Timmy rolls his eyes but he turns in Armie’s arms, letting him drag them back to his bedroom. They flop into his bed and Timmy is glad he had the good sense to get a bigger one before all of this went down. They roll around a bit, getting undressed and situated between soft kisses.

“Love you,” Armie murmurs, his lips firm against Timmy’s neck.

“Wanna suck you off,” Tim says in return. He slithers down the bed, positioning himself between Armie’s legs. He rubs his hands up hairy thighs, watching as his newly polished fingers glide over Armie’s skin.

As Timmy wraps his fingers around Armie’s cock, he hears a soft, “Fuuuuck,” and looks up to see Armie looking down at him. Specifically at his fingers. “That’s fucking hot.”

Tim smiles and leans in to lick at the tip of Armie’s cock. “I know.” He wraps his lips around the head and sinks down, relaxing his throat as best he can. It was a struggled to take all of Armie in the beginning, but with determination and practice, Timmy figured out the best ways to make Armie feel good. He sets to work, not wasting any time as he bobs his head, his hand flying over Armie’s cock, perfectly timed. He has Armie cumming in seconds and he lets the last spurt hit him right on his lips.

Armie reaches down, grabbing Timmy’s arms and hoisting him up for a messy kiss, smearing the cum between them. Timmy, in a slightly embarrassing turn of events, ruts against Armie’s thigh, cumming there as they continue kissing. 

“Talk about a facial,” Armie says, dragging his finger through some cum still on Timmy’s cheek.

“Shut up.” He gently smacks Armie’s hand away but gives him a gentle kiss before rolling out of bed and stumbling awkwardly to the bathroom. Armie follows and they both clean up before getting right back into bed. It’s still raining, although not as hard as earlier. Timmy settles on his side, his head resting on Armie’s bare chest and his pink fingers nestled in a thatch of chest hair.

“Thanks for painting my nails,” Tim whispers. He’s not sure if Armie heard him, but then Armie squeezes his shoulder and kisses the top of his head in acknowledgment. “And for everything.”


End file.
